


A kingdom of our own

by Whrain



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Fluff, Laurence and Napoleon oddly falling for each other, Lien being annoyed by her human's crush, M/M, Temeraire being supportive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25431436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whrain/pseuds/Whrain
Summary: Laurence journey to aid the Portuguese against the Tswana takes an unexpected twist when he and Temeraire are caught in a storm and crash onto the deck of a French dragon transport.
Relationships: Napoleon Bonaparte/William Laurence, William Laurence & Temeraire
Comments: 16
Kudos: 79
Collections: Temeraire Summer Exchange 2020





	1. Nothing could keep us apart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Calamitous_Magpie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calamitous_Magpie/gifts).



> Hey there!  
> I hope you enjoy what I made of your request. I tried to keep the angst out of it and somehow it got a serene feeling while writing which I hope transitions into reading. Participating in the exchange was so much fun, even though I had to change course once or twice.  
> Big shoutout to my beta reader Amestris, who made sure commas could be found at the right place and the story is not told in three different tenses.

As feeling returned to his body, he first noticed the wind mercilessly striking at his face, chilling him to his bones. Rain had been pouring down on him and Temeraire’s struggle with the storm had enabled the falling water to flay every inch of exposed skin and fall upon his head like hail.

He had kept his eyes pressed shut, flying goggles taken from him by the French aviators who had marooned them on the small island, not two weeks prior.

He would have liked to ask Temeraire to do the same, no use in spying for a ship or land in this storm, Laurence only hoped Temeraire wouldn’t lose orientation and crash into the sea.

But even if the dragon could have heard his pleas over the raging wind, he doubted it would do any good. He felt Temeraire’s determination, carrying them beyond exhaustion and despair.

They had known it to be a fool’s errand as they set out to scout for another ship. Laurence had seen the clouds gathering in the distance, felt - like every sailor of repute - the change in the air. It had not sufficed to stop them.

De Guignes had left them with too few supplies to feed the men and with three heavyweights starving on a small island tempers had been flaring. No one could have missed how the sailors were glaring at them. Nor the whispers of bad luck brought by the black dragon, which were making the rounds. 

Granby had tried to shrug them off, telling Laurence that they would set two of the dragons on hunting while one remained behind to protect the aviators and especially Laurence from an attack. 

Laurence knew it to be a hopeless approach, at some point the hunger would be greater than the convicts’ fear and with three dragons to feed there were no spoils of their hunt to be spared for the men.

So he and Temeraire had silently agreed upon finding a solution, or, at least, different hunting grounds. The lack of a proper harness had only agreed with Laurence. As they could not bring anyone of their crew there would be no one else to suffer the consequences if a situation such as this arose.

However, now that the time had come to accept his fate, he did not particularly like their odds. At least, he thought with a certain irony, they had enabled the sailors to take Temeraire’s share of Iskierka’s and Kulinguile’s catches, though he was distraught to see Temeraire drown because he had been unable to find a better solution and organize his men. 

He forced his eyes to open and moved hand over hand along the chain fastening Temeraire’s pennant to his neck - like he was climbing the Reliant’s rigging in a gale once again - he found himself dangling from his improvised harness, only holding on with one hand while glaring at the darkness beneath them that must have been the raging sea. 

It was hard to tell now that they were flying beneath the cloud cover but high enough not to accidentally be caught by one of the monstrous waves that had sunk many a ship in these foreign waters.

The wind was merciless now that he was no longer protected by Temeraire’s neck and the wing beating behind him, dumped gallons of water upon his head. Forcing him to synchronize his breaths with the upwards swoop of Temeraire’s wings. 

“Laurence”, Temeraire’s voice was barely audible but the concern added to the cold spreading throughout Laurence’s whole body, “Laurence what are you doing you will fall!”

He did not answer, eyes desperately searching the darkness beneath them. For what? Perhaps a darker spot indicating an island or at least a reef Temeraire could crouch upon. 

This was not a storm they would be able to outride and Temeraire would not be able to stay aloft much longer. 

Hell, if Laurence’s years of sailing had taught him anything, such storms only became worse the moment you started to believe they had reached their peak.

Another torrent of water came upon him, that left him sputtering and blinking furiously to regain his sight. There was a bright spot beneath them and for a moment he thought it was nothing but his eyes playing tricks on him.

Further spots appeared, and Laurence realized with an overwhelming sensation of relief that what he saw were the storm-lanterns of a ship. And a big ship at that.

A whaler perhaps? It did not matter even if it was just a first-rate there was at least a chance of safety. 

“Temeraire!”, he screamed at the top of his lungs adding in quick succession, “Sails, southwest to your wing!” His words ended in a coughing fit as water splashed him, filling his mouth.

He tried to return to his spot at the base of Temeraire’s neck but his hands were shaking, his whole body trembling as relief started to make his limbs heavy, even though the unforgiving wind did it’s best to remind him that they were far from safety yet.

He slipped. Lost his footing. Fell.

His makeshift harness dug into his skin as it drew taught, breaking his fall. He dangled from the strap for a moment before a sharp turn threw him towards Temeraire. 

Laurence tried his best to brace for impact and still found himself crashing against the dragon’s hide, moaning in pain as something in his chest gave way to a buckle that had twisted during his tumble.

The lights moved towards them as darkness crept into his sight. Laurence tried and failed to find purchase on the smooth hide, his movements becoming clumsier with every moment they gained on the ship.

By the time he would have been able to spot the deck, he only obtained the impression of frantic movement and something… white, covered by what he assumed must have been storm chains. 

Their arrival must have caused a fuss on deck, at least the screams and roars reaching his ears, indicated such. There were dragons aboard ship. 

They had stumbled upon a dragon transport.

Had de Guines ship been cast adrift by the storm? Impossible.

Temeraire’s voice boomed across the deck. Was he calling out for Laurence? Threatening the crew or challenging one of the dragons?

He had no idea.

He did not feel the hands that frantically grabbed his waist while another pair cut his straps. Nor did he see the additional chains brought out to secure Temeraire on the dragon deck. And he certainly did not notice a lonely figure appearing from the main cabin beneath the dragon deck, hastily closing the buttons on his coat, steel-grey eyes widening in horror upon seeing Laurence limp body being carried below decks.


	2. You are the one I was meant to find

Laurence woke with a gasp and made the ship surgeon and his assistant jump followed immediately by his ribs screaming in protest by sending a stab of pain through his upper body. He fell back onto the cot with a moan, the whole ship moved around him in a familiar but unsettling fashion.

The storm. Temeraire.

He tried to get up again, only thinking about the terror Temeraire must have experienced during his unconsciousness. The last thing he had seen had been Laurence being carried away and they were on a dragon transport, which made this a French ship. 

Laurence had no idea how their sudden appearance would be received now that no ambassador of his acquaintance was in charge of the vessel.

He stumbled to his feet, ignoring his protesting ribs and found his footing. Which was more than could be said of the surgeon and his assistant, who were holding on to one of the tables fastened to the floorboards with thick iron plates.

Sailors stumbled into the cabin, carrying a fallen comrade between them. Or so Laurence thought until he saw the epaulettes glistening on the man’s shoulders. 

Cursing Laurence pushed passed the sailors, holding onto the braided rail next to the steps leading onto deck. 

Bereft of her captain the transport had been thrown into chaos. Men were running around, attempting to take matters into their own hands by changing the ships rigging to the best of their abilities. Laurence prayed that there were some seasoned sailors on board. A handful of able seamen could turn tides while a band of rookies may just as well sink them. 

He looked towards the dragon deck, relieved to discover only minimal movement. The beasts held on to the deck and pressed against each other, apparently this occupied even Temeraire enough not to cause a fuss. 

His eyes strayed to the tangled mess of sail; the rope meant to keep them fastened to the main-yard had slung itself around the sailcloth rendering it basically useless. 

He was about to make his way to the rigging when his ears picked up a desperate voice screaming at the top of their lungs.

A young man, barely in his twenties, stood atop the quarter-deck trying and failing to gain the attention of the sailors. Marks of rank glistened upon his uniform and Laurence hurrying towards him noticed dreadfully that it was the third Lieutenant attempting to take control over the ship.

Someone bumped into Laurence, apparently, they had both been approaching the young Lieutenant, though the second man did not falter in his steps. He caught a brief glimpse of an embroidered jacket before a familiar voice cried out.

“Where is Captain Pelletier?”

Laurence, as well as the Lieutenant, froze upon realizing that Napoleon Bonaparte stood in front of them, seemingly undisturbed by the chaos that would most likely cost them their lives.

As the boy did not answer and a moment had passed in which Laurence had reassessed their situation, he turned to address the emperor, short of screaming into the man’s ear to make himself heard despite the wind.

“He has been taken to the sickbay. What happened to the first and second Lieutenant?”

If Napoleon was surprised to see him, he hid it well and as his eyes flickered across the deck without finding anyone befitting the rank of an officer, he had the gall to shrug.

“Cowering somewhere or gone overboard I would wager. You do not suppose Monsieur Travers up there will be able to handle the situation?”

 _The situation,_ Laurence turned his horrified gaze from the emperor to the ship’s keel, slowly turning away from the waves, as the men on the wheel inexorably lost control due to the tangle of half-unfolded sails. 

The ship was gradually becoming less manoeuvrable, offering her hull to the towering sea as if she was a dog rolling over for her master.

This wasn’t a situation. This was a death-trap.

Napoleon appeared to be amused by whatever he saw on Laurence’s face, lifting a brow as if expecting Laurence to follow an order he had not even bothered to voice.

Laurence bared his teeth at the French emperor, turned away and stalked towards the third Lieutenant who read everything he needed to know in Laurence’s icy expression. 

His voice boomed across the deck, the years of leading his men through battles, skirmishes, and gales just like this, turned his voice into a force of its own. He saw Temeraire’s bright blue eyes fixed upon him and realized that the white silhouette he had seen upon the dragon-deck had been no other but Lien, the Celestial’s eyes burning with anger upon discovering him amid the scrambling sailors.

Laurence hollered a tirade of orders, bringing the sailors to heel and establishing some semblance of order, before turning towards the young Lieutenant at his side, “Escort His Imperial Majesty to his cabin.” 

The removal of Napoleon was a risk, though a small one considering the current state of the ship. These sailors were willing to follow anyone, whose orders were familiar to them, it did not matter if they were delivered in accented French or not. He would have Napoleon brought upon deck after the storm had passed, hopefully before the French sailors decided that they did not like being pushed around by an Englishman. 

But for now, he was glad to have the emperor out of his sight. He set his mind upon the task of keeping the ship afloat instead of dwelling on thoughts he had deemed futile the very moment he had left France to face the noose waiting for him in merry old England.


	3. It's not in the cards

The first Lieutenant resurfaced a few hours after the storm had passed, he had been caught below deck by a cargo box that had blocked the entrance to the hold. 

Captain Pelletier was still brought low by a heavy fever. And as to the second Lieutenant, there was no trace to be found of him, so Laurence had to assume he had been lost in the storm.

Laurence’s throat was raw, he was exhausted, drenched through and frozen to his very bones, but the nervous energy radiating from the sailors kept him on his feet. He excused himself only once the dragons were being freed from the storm-chains. He used Temeraire as an excuse to slip away and found himself enveloped by the Celestial the moment he set foot upon the dragon-deck.

“I will not hurt him,” Lien declared in a tone that made clear how silly she thought them. Her red eyes were fixed upon Laurence with a strange mix of distrust and begrudging gratefulness.

Lien might despise him but even she had to admit that the  _ Altesse _ would have suffered far worse if it hadn’t been for Laurence.

He couldn’t care less, save that they were still drawing breath and it was unlikely Napoleon would be tempted to put him and Temeraire in chains. 

There was an uncomfortable sensation of insecurity once he’d thought about the actual possibility of the emperor restraining them.

So far no one had dared to question Laurence’s presence on the dragon-deck, but most of the sailors were still occupied with minor repairs on the ship and probably hadn’t even realized that an Englishman had taken charge of the vessel. 

Looking at the two French Lieutenants, however, did not leave Laurence with the impression that either of them was all too eager to challenge Laurence’s authority. 

“Oh, and I shall just take your word for it?” Temeraire grumbled, half curled around Laurence, ruff rising in a show of anger, while his claws anxiously scraped the deck. 

“He’s useful”, Lien explained in a tone that declared Laurence about as useful as a dog guarding her courtyard and she obviously could not keep herself from adding, “For now.”

Temeraire’s neck extended, teeth bared in a manner that sufficed to portray his opinion of that comment better than any words would have done.

Laurence wearily eyed the three Flame-de-Gloires sprawled out across the rest of the dragon deck, but if either of them had any objections to Temeraire growling at their mistress they did not seem particularly alarmed. 

Laurence also noticed the lack of handlers, which meant that the French firebreathers were either feral or more likely unharnessed and serving as Lien’s honour guard.

They also appeared to be exclusively female, judging by their size and a certain difference he had noticed in the breed’s distinctive yellow and black pattern. It was odd but could be accounted as mere chance if it hadn’t been for the fact that they were on the same ship as the French emperor and his dragon.

"I see you are getting along splendidly." As if conjured by Laurence’s thoughts Napoleon appeared on top of the stairs leading to the dragon-deck, carrying, of all things, a French Naval coat neatly folded across his forearm. 

“As always,” Laurence returned dryly from behind the wall of dragon.

Napoleon noted the lack of honorifics in Laurence’s address, as well as his failure to perform a proper greeting. He didn’t seem bothered by it, if anything there was a spark of mischief in his eyes as he stepped towards Lien, placing a calming hand on her foreleg. 

“I can’t blame dear Temeraire here for his anxiousness, after all, the two of you basically fell out of the sky. May I inquire as to how this might have been accomplished?"

“You mean whether there might be an English ship looking for us?”

“I would not be averse to obtaining that information.”

Laurence was of a mind to lie to him, his eyes occasionally flickering towards the coat, aware of the fact that there were not many reasons for Napoleon to carry it with him.

He thought of a similar coat left for him in the chambers that had been his quarters during his brief stay at the emperor’s residence. That coat had been left there as an offer, maybe a last chance to reconsider his decision. 

_ Your choice is the choice of Regulus, and I shall honour you for it. _

He doubted that he would be given much of a choice this time if Napoleon's expression was anything to go by and perhaps, some small part of him thought that the emperor shouldn’t have left him with a choice in the first place.

He shook his head, finding the thought both displeasing as well as unbefitting of his current position. He was an officer in his Majesty’s service, even if only reinstated out of lack of better prospects and whatever he had felt or thought during those days in Paris no longer applied to the man duty demanded him to be right now. 

“Temeraire would you be so kind and release me? It isn’t very polite to explain this situation while the emperor may only see part of my head.”

“Only if she promises to stay away from you,” Temeraire snarled, barely acknowledging Napoleon’s presence.

Laurence took a closer look at the dragon. Temeraire’s hide was still glistening from the rain, and since he kept his fair distance from Lien most of the sunbathed spots of the dragon-deck were out of reach to him.

He was occasionally trembling, and Laurence was convinced that he was able to see the outlines of Temeraire’s ribs, indicating how much weight he had lost during those weeks on the island.

Napoleon caught onto the change of Laurence’s spirits and inclined his head, “I will vouch for her.”

Words that drew a sound of protest from Lien but were sufficient to have Temeraire uncurl. Though he moved only enough to tower over Laurence like one of the gargoyles said to protect Notre Dame.

“Our ship sunk a few weeks ago,” Laurence explained deciding that the fastest way to get Temeraire fed would be to oblige Napoleon, “We had the good fortune of encountering your envoy’s transport but as we added three heavy-weights to their already impressive compliment he saw himself forced to … accommodate us on a small island.”

Laurence expected Napoleon to find amusement in this confession, but the emperor looked rather offended on Laurence’s behalf, “He marooned  _ you _ ?”

“I can’t say we left him with many options. There was no way in which he could sustain three additional heavy-weights.”

“For once I agree,” Lien declared, infuriating Temeraire further by lying down and lashing her tail in a gesture of boredom, “But it does not explain why you are here now.”

“He did not leave us with a sufficient supply,” Temeraire growled, “And those sailors were very unpleasant to Laurence and blaming me. Saying I brought bad luck.”

“I can’t say I disagree with them.”

“Lien,” Napoleon sighed, though it was the same tired tone Laurence used whenever he attempted to make Temeraire behave in front of British officials. 

He felt a smile tugging on his lips, quickly turning into embarrassment once the emperor noticed.

“The two of you left in an attempt to find a route to the continent?” Napoleon guessed.

“Rather another island that could better accommodate all of us. There were simply not enough resources to feed the dragons and my men.”

“I see, well we can at least do something to fill your bellies. I will have one of our cows slaughtered and brought to you, Temeraire. And captain, I would gladly welcome you at my dinner table, if your duties may allow so.”

Temeraire’s ruff picked up at the same time as Lien’s dropped. She was not exactly surprised, but neither was she pleased.

“My duties, your Majesty?” Laurence inquired feeling that what was asked of him at least deserved the return of some form of ceremony.

“With Captain Pelletier still inconvenienced and not a member of the crew considering it a disagreeable arrangement, I find myself at the pleasure of offering you the captaincy of the  _ Altesse, _ ” he extended the coat, worn epaulettes shining in the light of a clear morning. 

Laurence resisted the urge to brush his fingers across the gold and instead folded them behind his back.

“Temporarily I suppose. Until Captain Pelletier has recovered.”

Napoleon’s lips twitched in amusement, “Temporarily, yes.”

“In this case, I would be honoured.”

Though it was a little much to have the emperor of France hold out his coat out for him, while he slipped into its sleeve. 

“Huzza for the Captain”, someone shouted, and Laurence nearly flinched upon realizing that the crew had been watching.

It was a ridiculous notion, of course they had been, he certainly had spent too much time among aviators to enable him to forget the etiquette aboard ship. Though usually, the emperor of France was not in attendance. 

Napoleon grinned, satisfied with the enthusiasm of the sailors, who had clearly taken a liking to Laurence. Probably heard of him as well. 

Lien, if dragons had been able to do so, might have rolled her eyes at Temeraire who beamed in pride, nosing at Laurence’s new coat. 

The cheers faded and Laurence took his leave of Temeraire confident that his new station and the promised cow would at least prevent him from starting a fight with Lien.

He set about his new tasks, falling back into a comfortable routine he had lived for years. First, he sent Lieutenant Travers to check on their supplies, asking him to note if anything was lost or had been displaced. It was not entirely uncommon for the crew to take advantage in the aftermath of such a storm to better their personal supply. Laurence would have the young man check the sailor’s quarters before sending him to rearrange the guns.

He knew Captain Pelletier's reputation, a seasoned veteran and capable Naval officer, still, Laurence was displeased by the way the  _ Altesse  _ was lying in the water.

The First Lieutenant, Leblanc, was more than eager to please. Clearly embarrassed by his absence during the storm and so he did not raise a single objection when Laurence sent him to deal with the tangle of sails. 

Laurence made a point of remembering the crewmembers’ names, figuring out the individual traits of his officers and most importantly getting into the good graces of the surgeon as well as the cook. 

Altesse also had a preacher, who to Laurence’s surprise, turned out to be no other than the surgeon’s assistant. A young man who was enthusiastic in his attempts to sway Laurence to Catholicism, who took it with good humour.

Upon his return he found Napoleon on the quarter-deck overseeing what Laurence supposed must have been his orders to clear the Captain’s cabin from Pelletier’s personal items. He had thought about leaving it to the man, but after checking on him during his tour of the ship, it became painfully obvious that Pelletier was in no position to be removed from the sickbay and so Laurence had arranged a room in the mostly vacant aviator’s quarters of the transport were he would be easily accessible for the surgeon while profiting from a proper hammock. 

While the cabin was cleared Laurence had a table and some maps brought onto deck. Napoleon followed him as he studied the course Pelletier had set for them and attempted to calculate how far the storm had thrown them off said course.

Ignoring the emperor’s curious glances, Laurence consulted his compass, looked at the hourglass and dearly hoped no one had forgotten to turn it during the brief period he and the  _ Altesse’s _ captain had been unconscious and the ship cast adrift.

It took him some time but after a handful of calculations and some intuitive alterations he was satisfied enough to give the orders for a readjustment of sails and sent the first watch to rest below deck. They would not get far until the repairs were completed, but since they were only three to four days from the island, where Laurence suspected their comrades to be, he would not complain. Perhaps the days required to ready the ship would suffice to offer a solution for their misfortune. For one, according to the ship’s register the Altesse might be able to supply three additional heavy-weights, if Napoleon would be willing to sacrifice the purebred horses kept in relative comfort, in the ship’s hold. Laurence did not like to dwell on the question of why they were there in the first place. 

“It is quite eerie”, Napoleon commented once Laurence was no longer occupied.

Laurence did him the favour and lifted one of his brows in question. Napoleon’s hand moved in a dramatic gesture to indicate the deck or the whole of the ship.

“I would like to see an Englishman take over a battalion of dragons in such a short period of time.”

“I suppose the word of their emperor would help to motivate them”, Laurence offered, leaning his back against the rail, sparing a glance at Temeraire who was peacefully sleeping on the far end of the dragon-deck, unbothered by any of the French dragons who seemed to have long lost interest in him.

“That is what unsettles me, my dear William…”

Shudders ran up and down Laurence’s spine upon hearing the familiar address.

He had offered the emperor his first name. The night before he and Temeraire departed for England. Napoleon had done the same, a sad smile on his lips as he said his goodbyes. 

_ “I feel like watching sand slipping through my fingers. And I do not enjoy finding myself helpless to prevent you from slipping away.”  _

“… I merely asked Monsieur Leblanc wherever he would take charge of the ship once the storm had passed and he appeared to be horrified by the mere notion of taking command.”

"I dare say the men might have gained the impression that he was hiding in the hold, while their Captain was carried below decks and an inexperienced officer left in charge." 

“Do you think he did? Hide I mean?”

“I doubt it. Just an unfortunate turn of events. Though I certainly am already working on seeing him regain the respect and trust of his shipmates. There is no use in having a first Lieutenant, who’s orders will be questioned. 

I will likely have to hold an official dinner to establish my high opinion of him in the eyes of the other officers but by the time me and Temeraire shall take our leave you should have a capable captain at hand.”

“Take your leave?” Napoleon mused, following Laurence's gaze to the sleeping dragons, though his eyes rested on Lien, watching the horizon as if she saw something no one else could.

“I did not gain the impression I was to be your prisoner, your Imperial Majesty.”

“You certainly are not,” Napoleon returned with a chuckle, “Though I fear if I let you leave, I will have a mutiny at hand. I despise ships, their dynamic is beyond me. I feel like the rules change with the wind.”

“I doubt it is any different in a military camp. Men forced to live in close quarters obey certain rules and defy others. It is just the way of things in a world of wood, rope and fabric.”

“Military camps are different. There is a possibility to leave,” the emperor started to pace, long strides that carried him across the quarter-deck, “And certainly society’s rules do not apply on the open sea as they do in a military camp with dozens of officers keeping their subordinates in check as well as having possible reinforcements at their disposal. You realize you are vastly outnumbered if the common sailors get it into their heads to turn against you? And you have to watch them approach while fully aware that there is no other ship on the horizon, not another soul in miles. What I hate most about ships is the way they limit my movement.”

Napoleon turned on his heels, walking towards Laurence, hands gesturing wildly, “It takes me a handful of minutes to walk from bow to stern. I prefer my battlefields to be vast, providing me with opportunities and choices. Rather than a swimming piece of wood, cast adrift in the ocean, forced to obey every whim of tide and weather.”

Laurence had never dwelled on the nature of ships in such a manner. Certainly, he had been aware that they were restricting, though only in movement and only as long as he only took his own stride into account. There was certainly no limit to the miles a frigate would swallow if a strong wind was caught in her sails.

Going to sea, joining the Navy, those had been acts that had allowed him a certain freedom. Certainly, more freedom than he would have found in the clutches of the church and his father's expectations. 

Staying aboard ship for a few weeks or even months was worth the hardship when he suddenly found himself in a new harbour filled with people and sights strange and intriguing, knowing that only a handful of people knew the true joy of the foreign.

It was a feeling that was only outdone by being on dragon-back, watching as Temeraire’s wingbeats ate away the miles while the countryside changed in quick succession and the whole world shrunk until it appeared as if just another wingbeat would carry him to China and back.

But he could not imagine that Napoleon would understand such a notion. For the emperor, the world was already in his grasp, and being contained to a ship, cut off of his intelligence and the proceedings of a war - that was meant to erase all the borders drawn on Laurence’s maps - the ship ought to be restricting. 

It ought to feel as if someone had taken Napoleon and dumped him on a small and insignificant part of the empire, he had set out to build.

“If I may be so bold, I think you might look at the  _ Altesse  _ in the wrong way. You say society's rules do no longer apply and you might be right. Aboard ship no matter wherever it is a French or English vessel, society becomes a part of the ship-life, not the other way around. Maybe you ought to look at a ship as its own little kingdom."

“Where the Captain is king?” Napoleon inquired, eyes roaming Laurence in an appraising manner that Laurence chose to overlook.

“Perhaps. But I think I do not need to tell you that this doesn’t make his power absolute. The crew has to gain the impression that their Captain is in control but to keep up this appearance, the officers have to follow his orders, the cook, the surgeon and even the priest dare not question his character, Laurence watched as the emperor cocked his head, searching Laurence’s face, expectation apparent in Napoleon’s own expression.

“I spent half an hour appraising some grog so watered down that I doubt it has any taste left to it and another hour listening to the teachings of a priest I do not agree with. I dare say you do the same with your advisors, marshalls, and allies on a daily basis.

The officers are a captain’s marshals and advisors, and the cook, surgeon, and priest his allies. These are the people who ultimately speak with and for the rest of the crew.” 

He met Napoleon’s gazes, steel-grey eyes ablaze with a keen interest as if he had encountered something unexpected, "This from the man who claims to be a soldier but not a statesman.”

Laurence was surprised to find that Napoleon had remembered this comment.

“Oh I am a soldier and I have a soldier's view on matters of state. As do these people, hence why I can rule over this little kingdom but would despair even to aspire to wield such power as yours.”

“You always lacked ambition, my dear Laurence,” Napoleon said, though his tone was filled with fondness and Laurence averted his gaze.

He remembered this conversation too well and not wishing to spark any hope of reigniting the discussion, he looked back towards Temeraire. The dragon was slowly stirring from his sleep to Lien's great displeasure; she seemed to dislike having Temeraire disturb her wistful moment.

She settled down to rest and Laurence had the odd impression of the two Celestials changing watch, as Temeraire’s gaze was drawn to the same horizon as Lien’s.

“If you would excuse me,” Laurence made his way towards the stairs feeling Napoleon’s eyes upon his back.

“Captain,” the emperor called, now loud enough to be heard by the crew as well, “Neither you nor Temeraire are restricted to this ship. If it would please you, you may take him on a flight,” lowering his voice the emperor added, accompanied by a private smile, “Though I expect you to attend dinner tonight.” 

Laurence felt his cheeks flush, “And I would like to see this ship still afloat upon my return.”


	4. Fate is pulling us miles away

“Oh, Laurence I so love the sky after a storm”, Temeraire noted, while playing with the waves. The ocean was still in a slight uproar, though little more than a faint memory of last night’s gale. 

They had been hunting, always staying in sight of the  _ Altesse, _ Laurence did not enjoy leaving her under the command of a Lieutenant the crew deemed a coward. 

In the meantime, Temeraire had caught a tunny of terrifying size and a shark that had attempted to chew through one of his talons, a catch that reminded Laurence of their first proper flight together. He found himself wondering how things might have turned out if he had refused to harness Temeraire and found neither of the things that came to mind appealing. 

He placed a hand on Temeraire’s neck to gain the dragon’s attention.

“We should return, I am not sure if they won’t steer her to India if left unattended.”

"They seemed fine sailors to me," Temeraire declared, though not in protest but a mere observation.

“Oh they are but a change in command always causes some fuss. And after that gale, I would prefer not to challenge our good fortune.”

“As you wish.”

Temeraire flew upwards again, bringing them close to the cloud cover, the  _ Altesse  _ an insignificant white dot on the vast horizon.

“Napoleon seems very fond of you,” Temeraire ventured in a tone that hailed impending doom.

“He is a very generous host.”

“He was already fond of you in Paris.”

Laurence was glad for the biting wind, otherwise, he might have had to admit to blushing again.

“How do you come to this conclusion, my dear?” he asked knowing perfectly well that he would regret it sooner rather than later.

“Well, he told me so.”

Laurence swallowed a sound of disbelief but luckily Temeraire was too satisfied sharing his observations with Laurence to notice.

“Lien did protest but at least Napoleon realized how precious you are.”

“Temeraire…”

“He even promised me to try to sway you during dinner.”

Laurence remembered that dinner and was not too surprised to learn about this. After all, one of Napoleon's key arguments had always been Temeraire's captivity by the British should Laurence choose to return.

The emperor had been right of course. And if it wasn’t for Temeraire’s personal war effort he doubted that he would have got to see the dragon again.

“I think, he would have liked it very much if we would have stayed in France. He even described the estate to me. The one he meant to offer to us.”

As Laurence did not know what may have been an appropriate answer to this revelation, he kept quiet.

Which prompted Temeraire to add, "Though I do understand why we had to return to Britain and it certainly wasn't for nought. After all, dragons now get paid and once this is over, we may return to our valley and continue on my pavilion.”

Temeraire raised his head as if he had just had an idea, though Laurence had the sinking feeling this conversation had just reached its peak, “Oh we should invite Napoleon.”

“I fear he won’t be able to accept such an invite, my dear.”

The thought of the emperor of France standing in front of their makeshift pavilion in the middle of the devoid Australian countryside was as surreal to Laurence as the image of his own small estate on the French coastline.

“But I’m sure he would enjoy it! Lien might complain about the sand. But I’m sure Napoleon would appreciate the architecture of my pavilion, he has commissioned some fine buildings in Paris, after all. And maybe some of the bunyips would take a liking to Lien.”

Laurence couldn’t quite keep himself from chuckling, however, all humour was lost when Temeraire continued his train of thought.

“And maybe we could sail there right after we have finished this unfortunate business with the Tswana.”

“My dear, I doubt Napoleon’s hospitality will extend this far. As far as we know, he uses the Tswana to his advantage. He will not welcome our interference.”

“But Furnaise told me Napoleon was to court the Incan empress and they were meant to give her dragons eggs as a courting gift. So perhaps he won’t mind if we stop the Tswana from raiding the colonies? Certainly, he can’t object to us finding a more peaceful approach to this dreadful business of slavery.”

Laurence might have objected if Temeraire had not continued interpreting the expression on Laurence face as simple doubt, “And if we are there with him, we might be able to sway the empress to marry you instead. I understand she is in possession of a great treasure.”

Laurence baulked at the mere notion of being caught in another political game at a foreign court. Being made a prince of China had been more than enough for him and he did not think it beyond Temeraire to use this piece of questionable information to their advantage. 

“Or maybe if you stay a little longer, Napoleon might remember that he wants to court you. I shall not object if you would prefer his company. He after all also has a great deal of treasure and we have proof that he values dragons, which cannot be said of the empress.”

“I… Temeraire, I think you misunderstand his intentions.”

“Oh, I don't think so. After all, he has given you this splendid coat and gifted you with a ship,” which was not exactly what captaincy meant and Laurence was convinced that Temeraire was well aware of that, “So he clearly knows that you enjoy commanding them. Also, Lien is especially sour whenever she sees you speak with him” 

“And…,” Temeraire added initiating his principal argument, “…he has provided me with a splendid cow. Just as splendid as Lien’s. They even cooked it in the Chinese style, for me.”

“That is all very well, my dear. But it could be simply interpreted as the actions of a generous host.”

Or a generous captor. 

Napoleon must have obviously no interest in seeing Temeraire slip through his grasp once again and only played his cards according to his current position. He had to rely on Laurence expertise regarding the management of a ship, which did not mean he would alter their situation once Lieutenant Leblanc had been restored in the eyes of the crew or Captain Pelletier miraculously recovered.

Temeraire appeared puzzled by Laurence’s lack of agreement, and Laurence mumbled a silent prayer that they may reach the  _ Altesse  _ before Temeraire found a counter-argument. Sadly, the ship seemed even farther from his reach than during his last longing gaze to the horizon.

But searching the open sea Laurence’s eyes fell upon something else of interest. Fumbling for a moment with his spyglass he discovered a small vessel, remarkably similar to a barque, with three masts rigged aft on her aftermost mast. The ship did not recommend itself for sailing on the open sea, an observation that combined with the lack of colours flying her mast aroused Laurence's attention. 

“Temeraire alter your course,” he spared a gaze to the sky, “Southwest.”

Soon Temeraire discovered the ship as well, inquiring wherever Laurence intended to take it as a prize, his spirits quite diminished by Laurence declaring it neither a lawful prize not likely to offer much of a fight.

It appeared to be a pirate vessel or rather a smuggler’s ship. Most likely using an unmarked route, leading along smaller islands, serving as hideouts, and mere atolls to the continent. 

His heart skipped a beat and he was keen on returning to the ship to consult his maps hoping that maybe some bold French voyager might have noticed what the English had missed.

And even if the smuggler's route was lost to the more official maps, he was certain that the Altesse was not being trailed by a single such vessel and one of them might be easily taken if such actions were to be deemed necessary.

He hurried Temeraire towards their transport, finding his enthusiasm mirrored by the dragon who gleefully added, “Iskierka will be fuming if we return offering a route to the continent. Do you suppose we might encounter some pirates?”

“My dear, I have to invoke you not to share this information with anyone.”

"Well, I won't confide in Lien if that is what worries you. And her honour guard are rather dull creatures. As much as I do enjoy seeing you restored to your deserved place, as a respected Captain I mean, not necessarily aboard ship, I am missing the company of our friends. Not Iskierka, though even she is preferable to Lien."

Satisfied with the answer Laurence unclasped himself and hurried towards the maps now returned to the Captain’s cabin where he had made himself at home.

He did not discover any islands that would indicate illegal trade, but he had spent enough of his early years in the Navy hunting smugglers that this did not come as a surprise. 

Smaller islands were only of minor interest to a country’s Navy or trade ships and while the French did not possess a map that would serve his intentions, he was sure to find one on the barque he and Temeraire had discovered. 

They would try to find it in the morning when it was less suspicious to take Temeraire on another flight.

Napoleon might say that they were not to be considered his prisoners, but Laurence had his doubts whether the emperor would be too keen to discover that his only bargaining chip, the  _ Altesse _ might be no longer of interest to them.

There was a knock on his door and ship-life had its grasp on him the very moment he called for Leblanc to enter. 


	5. Just you and me within these walls

Napoleon's cabin was as impressive as any quarters Laurence had ever seen arranged on a ship. He had not thought it possible to furnish the room in such a manner that he might have forgotten he was still aboard the  _ Altesse  _ if it wasn’t for the soft sway of the ship and the three portholes that indicated that the grand cabin had originally been three. 

Napoleon’s desk had been cleared, as well as several sofas that had been rearranged against the walls, allowing a decorative table to catch Laurence’s attention. It was not comparable to the grand table Laurence would have used to host a dinner for his officers, barely permitting four people to comfortably eat side by sight, but it was certainly enough for a private dinner as Napoleon had intended.

A valet was preparing the table while Napoleon offered Laurence a glass of wine, an amused smile playing on his lips as he watched Laurence survey his quarters.

"I must admit that I have become quite comfortable among all luxury of my station. At first, it was a necessity to keep face, but by now I genuinely enjoy seeing the thought that goes into preparing a room until it may correspond with my taste. But please take a seat, Captain it has been so very long since we shared a pleasant evening.”

“Your Imperial Majesty is too kind,” Laurence returned aware of the servant still in the room. 

The man did not stay long after the first dish had been served, he vanished from the room, allowing for more privacy between his master and his guest.

“I understand you had been transported to Australia, following the events of the invasion? I am quite curious how you found yourself restored to service.”

"Temeraire's actions have allowed for a lessening in my penalty. My reinstatement, if I may be blunt, appears to be more than I deserve."

"Or rather more than you bargained for. Though, William, I find that idleness does not quite suit you. What have you been up to in Australia? Despite being caught in a half-hearted revolution?" there was a mocking quality to the latter, confirming as it did, the emperor's own theory of Laurence being unable to remain a bystander.

“After things settled down Temeraire and I were granted a small valley to breed cattle and make ourselves at home.”

“And you found it to your liking?” Napoleon inquired.

“There is a certain peace in knowing the world has forgotten about you.”

"That seems to me, a peace at too high a cost. Besides no one has forgotten about you and that dragon of yours. In fact, there was quite a discussion among my Marshals who declared their interest in contacting you. Feel the waters one might say. Some of them appeared to be of the opinion that you might be inclined to turn coat now that England has dealt such an insult to you.”

Napoleon chuckled at Laurence obvious displeasure, "Pray don't be offended, I told them it was a hopeless endeavour. After all, you chose the noose above a comfortable life under my protection. And while I admire such determination and loyalty, I can't say that I regret finding you very much alive."

"And aboard your ship?" Laurence added with a grin.

“I dare say you make a habit of appearing out of nowhere, whenever I find myself in dire need of a miracle.”

“I only wish my miracles would benefit England instead of France.”

“Perhaps you would prefer to reflect on them as benefiting me,” there was a gleam in Napoleon’s eyes that send shudders down Laurence’s spine.

Napoleon’s hand was resting in the centre of the table.

Coincidence? Or an invite?

They had played this game before, the night previous to Laurence’s return to England. 

Napoleon had flattered him, offered him food and drink, given himself as an impeccable host, only interested in honouring Laurence’s service to France’s dragons. 

Then the emperor had offered his Christian name and as it was only polite, Laurence had done the same. That had resulted in a shift in the room and Napoleon was very keen on exploiting the privilege of calling him,  _ William. _

“I fear your person is very much attached to France, your Majesty.”

"Ah, but did you not declare this ship its own little kingdom? Therefore you may say that at least your current service to me, is not benefitting France."

“I wish the answer were this simple.”

“What if it is?”

Apparently deciding that Laurence had not understood his more subtle hints, Napoleon nudged Laurence’s knee beneath the table.

Colour blossomed upon Laurence’s cheeks, and by now he found the unwavering smile of the emperor quite annoying. 

“Your Majesty…”

“I do remember offering you to call me Napoleon.”

“Will it suffice to make you refrain from such behaviour?”

Napoleon withdrew his touch, though there was certainly no defeat to be found in his eyes, if anything he appeared to be intrigued.

“I conclude that my advances have been ignored and not missed.”

“They have been noticed,” Laurence returned, finding that both their plates were left untouched and he had already lost his appetite, “And if you wish to continue in such a manner I would like to be excused.”

That at least wrest some concern from Napoleon, “I gained the impression that you were not opposed to men. Though I do apologize if my assumptions have led me astray.”

Laurence resisted the urge to tug on his neckcloth feeling his blush spreading farther down his neck, "I am not opposed to men."

Though he would have liked his preferences to remain private. He was capable of feeling desire for both men as well as women. Though the latter had been rare, if asked he could have only given the names of two women who were of note and both had rejected him for their own reasons.

As a young officer he had encountered many a sailor sharing his preferences, something that simply no longer befit his station once he had made post. Everyone available had to be considered his subordinate and therefore was no longer a desirable partner, for he could never be sure wherever the attraction was genuine or calculated.

For a brief moment, he wondered if Napoleon's sole reason for being attracted to him originated from a similar point of view. After all, Laurence had made it clear enough that he had no desire to profit from their acquaintance.

But the emperor seemed too genuinely hurt by his confession. Pride then. Napoleon was chasing another impossible goal and he would lose interest once Laurence had submitted to him.

Laurence came to question his own theory upon hearing the tone in which Napoleon’s next question was delivered, “So you are only opposed to me, then?”

Leaning back in his chair Laurence found that he had no answer to the question. Was he opposed to Napoleon?

He looked at the man opposite him, finding that the answer ought to be simple enough. 

What he saw was not comparable to the  _ Corsican Ogre  _ the tabloids liked to rant about. He was not stunted as his depictions would have liked to have the public believe, rather compact than short. Napoleon’s dark hair was short and thinning, though his face showed no sign of age nor fatigue. He was a rather handsome man, with a quick smile, that was meant for Laurence.

He could not deny his attraction but if he chose his partners on appearance alone, he would have been hung from the neck as a midshipman.

"Speak your mind. I won't hold it against you, but neither am I keen on pursuing a goal I know to be out of reach."

“And there you claim me to be unambitious,” which was entirely the wrong thing to say.

His words ignited the spark in Napoleon’s eyes and saw that blasted smile restored.

“So you are not opposed to me?”

“As a man? No. But as a soldier? As a British officer and gentleman? Yes.”

“Right now you are neither of those things.”

Laurence chuckled through the sound lacked any real joy, “Just as you are not the emperor of France?”

“I do not see why I should be considered such in this very moment. Except of course it would be to your liking.”

Laurence did not grant him the little pleasure of seeing those words affect him, instead, he made a small gesture with his hand, "Besides you are a married man.”

"No longer. I have divorced Josephine as she failed to provide me with an heir. Additionally, I have discovered that she was plotting against me. It appears she was opposed to my ideas."

“I can neither provide you with an heir. Nor do I agree with your ideas.”

“Ah, but you do agree with them, you simply dislike seeing them realised in France while your own country barely acknowledges the intelligence of dragons. If this is a matter of honour. I shall not fault you for turning me down.”

His brows arched and the emperor extended his hand once more, though this time he did not conceal his intent, “However, if you only feel yourself obliged to turn me down for the sake of keeping face. I may reassure you that none of this shall ever leave this cabin. And that I will not ask anything of you that should be to your dislike.”

“Whatever should we consider such an arrangement?”

“A dalliance if it would lend you any comfort.”

Laurence cocked his head surprised by the guarded tone behind Napoleon’s words, “How would you refer to it?”

“I have no expectations towards you, William. I shall be glad for your company, no matter in which form you may grant it.”

“Why?”

“Because I find you intriguing. You are aware that my men have taken to calling you  _ le chevalier noir _ ?”

“I am not.”

"Well, they are. You are a rarity Laurence and I find myself admiring what I do not understand. I have betrayed my country after seeing her flaws. I do not regret it. And while I can see that you find no regret in your own actions. I am not blind to how you are being brought low by them. So I will not insult you by offering you a place at my side again. What I offer is the simplicity of pleasure between two men. Forget about soldiers and emperors for just one night. You called this ship its own kingdom. So allow yourself to bend its rules to your liking.”

~*~

Laurence was unsure wherever he should worry about Hammond suffering a stroke or the starved aviators attempting to jump Lien and her escort of three Flame-de-Gloires in full battle gear. 

He had tried to discourage Napoleon from accompanying him to the island but found that most of his worries of sudden hostilities were unfounded the moment the emperor decided to apologize personally for the treatment they had suffered under his ambassador’s care.

Granby was alternating between glaring at Napoleon and looking at Laurence in a mixture of utter amazement and dread, though neither could hold back a grin when Hammond nearly froze while shaking Napoleon’s hand.

"And as a show of goodwill, I shall welcome you as personal guests once you may reach Kuzco. I am certain you will be as welcome to me as to the empress."

Words that rendered any hope, Laurence had of his little smuggler hunt having gone unnoticed fruitless. He would have not put it past the emperor to be aware of the map he hid beneath his shirt.

Napoleon’s gaze flickered towards Laurence, searching or perhaps hoping for protest. A sudden change of mind, that would allow Laurence to remain in command of the  _ Altesse  _ and ultimately follow Napoleon to France. 

He would find neither.

Laurence had been perfectly aware of Napoleon's duties as a statesman, even though the emperor had reassured Laurence that it was not an uncommon practice in France to entertain a royal escort.

It was, Laurence supposed, a gracious offer for a man who’s life belonged more to his country than to himself. If Laurence had accepted, it might well have cost him allies as well as stirred up gossip and done harm to the reputation of his future wife. 

A wife that if Hammond’s expression was anything to go by, probably wouldn’t be as easily gained as Napoleon imagined. Though he looked extraordinarily pleased seeing the determination on the British ambassador’s face. Laurence could only guess that he would have to turn down further advances to not cause a scandal while residing in a foreign court. 

Lien had gladly expressed the Incan’s dislike towards foreigners especially the British and for once Laurence was inclined to agree with her. 

An alliance between the French and the Incan empire might be less than desirable but if Napoleon had come prepared as Laurence knew all too well having gone through the ship’s manifest, he doubted there was anything they could do. It did not matter that Napoleon had declared him and Temeraire agents of chaos, capable of almost anything.

“Captain,” even the British snapped to attention as Napoleon turned to Laurence.

“Your Imperial Majesty.”

“You are quite sure you won’t take my offer? You and Temeraire would be very welcome.”

Laurence took this as his clue to take off the French Naval coat, offering it to the emperor with a smile, “I fear your Majesty, that my loyalty still belongs to England.”

“I understand,” he took the coat before turning to Temeraire, “I assume you will prefer to stay with your Captain?”

“Certainly, though your offer is very generous.”

“Too generous,” Lien commented prompting the emperor to a silent laugh.

"Well, then there is nothing left than to say goodbye."

Turning towards Laurence for a last time, he seized his shoulders to kiss his cheeks and if his lips brushed the corners of Laurence mouth none of the British appeared to be the wiser.


End file.
